


but it was not your fault but mine (and it was your heart on the line)

by heartlynes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Lincoln's pov, Not Really A Happy Ending, because octavia deserves to be angry, post 2x11, totally not what happens in 2x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlynes/pseuds/heartlynes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re sorry?” she snapped. Lincoln saw the strings in her break, the ones that were down to their last threads. “Those psychopaths are bleeding him, drilling into his bones for bone marrow, and you’re sorry?”</p><p>or, the one where they find Lincoln as a reaper again, and Octavia snaps</p><p>spoilers for 2x11</p>
            </blockquote>





	but it was not your fault but mine (and it was your heart on the line)

_But it was not your fault but mine_  
 _And it was your heart on the line_  
 _I really fucked it up this time_  
 _Didn't I, my dear?_  
 _Didn't I, my dear?_

When Lincoln finally came to, he was in the dropship again. The weight of the chains around his wrists and the headache that coursed through his temples like an earthquake was enough to make him dread the following events. He had been in this position before, Octavia crouched over him with tears in her eyes. Only this time something was different. Clarke was putting awake her electric wand, sending a quick nod to Octavia, who sat against a wall to his right. His lover did not approach him as Clarke descended the ladder, disappearing from his line of vision. It was a struggle to turn his head to face the other soul in the dropship.

 

She was different than the last time he saw her, the night he left with Bellamy for the mission to Mount Weather. More braids lined her hair, unlike the first time he saw her. The first night, it had flowed around her face like an ethereal being. Now it was done away from her face like a warrior. The skin around her eyes was smeared in black paint, and he could swear he saw the edge of a tattoo peeking out of her shirt. She was staring straight through him, sitting with her knees to her chest. Tension radiated from her body.

 

He lifted his hands, only to be stopped by the metal restraints. “Octavia,” he pleaded, hating how dry his voice sounded. Her movements seemed automated, not hers, as she rose slowly to her feet. The two steps she took to get to his side was an eternity stretched between them. The first time she undid the things that bound him, she was moving frantically to cut the ropes before the jobi nuts wore off. This was a slow, lazy movement that seemed hesitant, and the guilt racked him. She was upset.

 

He sat up, head pounded ferociously at the movement. The bindings had cut into his wrists from where he had pulled against them, rubbing them raw. When he went to sooth them, his hand came away with blood. Octavia sat at his side, brooding and stiff. Anger radiated off of her and again, he didn’t know how to begin talking. In their relationship, she had always done most of the talking, the question asking. He was always more than happy to oblige, but now he sat next to his lover in the dropship for the second time, not knowing how to apologize.

 

“You look different.”

 

Octavia glanced at him, the way she would glance offhandedly at a guard making a comment that disinterested her. “Indra made me her second.”

 

Before Lincoln got the chance to reply, she continued. “My brother’s still missing. He’s still in that mountain.”

 

He looked at his hands. They still had blood, new blood, on them. New blood, old blood. So much blood was on his hands, and now the blood of the one person Octavia had a family ties to. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re _sorry_?” He saw something inside her snapped. Lincoln saw the strings in her break, the ones that were down to their last threads. “Those psychopaths are bleeding him, drilling into his bones for bone marrow, and you’re sorry?”

 

She took a deep breath, tears of anger and betrayal running down her face. Lincoln wanted to brush them away, take her face in his hands and kiss her. _Everything is going to be okay,_ he would say. But he didn’t deserve to be able to do that, and he would be lying if he told her that Bellamy would make it out unscathed. He clenched his fists at his side, wishing all the pain of this wretched world on him.

 

“What was so surprising to me was how he got caught,” she continued, bitterness and anger lacing her voice. “And then he radios in, saying you took the red. I thought, _no_. Not Lincoln, who was so desperate to redeem himself. He wouldn’t give up my brother for some drugs. But we found you three days after Maya told us they got him, eating out the guts of someone from the ark. Deja vu, yeah?”

 

“There were too many,” he pleaded. “If I hadn’t done it, the cover would have been blown. I couldn’t fight off all of them, Octavia.”

 

“That was your fucking plan in the first place, Lincoln,” she spat. “He goes in, you kill everyone. That was the plan.”

 

“What was I supposed to do, Octavia?” he wanted her to understand. He wanted to go back and work something out, but he couldn’t. He wanted Octavia to stop crying, stop yelling with black tear tracks on her face.

 

“You were supposed to do something,” she screamed, burying her face in her hands. There were a few counts of silence between them, before she straightened again, removing her hands. Her lifelines were coated in black, and it was the most ironic and most beautiful thing he’d seen in his life. “I love you, Lincoln.”

 

Lincoln relaxed, “I love you-”

 

“Wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I love you, but if my brother dies in there, I won’t forgive you. He’s all I got, Lincoln.”

 

He wanted to scream ‘ _You have me’_ , but it hit him like an axe. She didn’t want him, and the revelation was worse than a blade piercing through his skin.

 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly. Next to him, he felt her take a deep breath. The time it took her to exhale was excruciating.

 

“For now,” she drawled. “I want you to stay away from me.”

 

Lincoln felt his heart break into a thousand pieces. He had given everything for her, but he took her brother from her. Nothing could mend that, and in return nothing could mend his heart. “Clarke wants you around for information purposes and what not. Do that. Rekindle your relationship with your people. Just . . . stay away from me. For now.”

 

She didn’t look at him as she left, didn’t meet his eyes as she climbed the ladder to the lower floor. Lincoln remained in the dropship, for how long he didn’t know. An hour, two. The sun was setting as he returned to camp. He kept his promise, a keeping his distance from her until a rescue party formed under Clarke’s orders. A message had come in on Raven’s radio in the early hours of the morning.  The 47 had rallied and under a group effort created a disturbance, subdued a few guards and had managed to turn off their fog. No one was sure how long it would last, so they had to be quick. He had been one of the firsts to sign up, the least he could do. He had been adamant about it, surprising even Clarke when she suggested he stay behind. The few surrounding were taken aback by the intensity in which he insisted he was saving his people. He caught Octavia staring at him from the back of the room, who nodded once when their eyes caught. She knew who his people were.

_But it was not your fault but mine_  
 _And it was your heart on the line_  
 _I really fucked it up this time_  
 _Didn't I, my dear?_  
 _Didn't I, my dear?_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> because Octavia should get to be angry with him. I'm not blaming Lincoln for what happened, just saying I feel like this is what her thought process would be.
> 
> Title and lyrics are from the song "Little Lion Man" by Mumford & Sons
> 
> xx heartlynes


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